


Age In Grade

by The Spike (spike21)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 09:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spike21/pseuds/The%20Spike
Summary: "Because we’ve finished with the fun part of the date and moved on to the annoying part."Sadly pornless sequel to "C9H13NO3"





	Age In Grade

Once they’ve got the general hang of it, John gets kind of obsessed with the whole bondage thing. He likes the way Rodney fights and squirms and then gives in, as though submission is the biggest surprise of his life. Every time.

There’s probably something psychological to that. John avoids thinking about it. Instead, he puts his imagination to work finding cool things to tie Rodney up to, cool things to tie Rodney up with and cool positions to tie Rodney up in.

Rodney is surprisingly amenable. Also surprisingly bendy.

“I used to be this skinny guy,” he says a little defensively, when John remarks on it. “I used to be able to get into a full lotus position and walk around on my knees. Wait… wait. Maybe I can… If I…Yes! No! Ow. Ow ow ow…”

When John can stop laughing long enough to open his eyes, he asks, “Am I calling in a med team?” 

Actually he wheezes it, still clutching his stomach.

“Yes, yes, hip dysplasia: so very amusing. And what’s forty doing for your flexibility, Colonel Crunchy Knees? Also… OW! Stuck! Ow!”

“I’m not forty,” John says. Rodney rolls to the left and appears to have some kind of seizure and suddenly his legs are untangled.

“Oh thank GOD,” Rodney says, flexing and straightening his knees. “Except I’ve definitely pulled something in my groinal region that… ow… okay, maybe not. And yes, you are.”

“I’m not forty, Rodney,” John says. “I’m not even close to forty. I’m not even thirty-nine.”

“You’re saying this to a man who can hack the Pentagon,” Rodney says getting to his feet and stomping around experimentally. “And ha!” He turns and points at John accusingly. “You’re all… age vain!”

“I’m not age vain,” says John. “Which is not even an expression. And I’m not forty.”

“Age vain!” Rodney crows and plumps down on the bed next to John, who is very much no longer in the mood and considering target practice with the secret store of Rodney-faced targets he doesn’t officially know about. Rodney is peering at him. Annoyingly.

“What?”

“You are suspiciously not-gray,” Rodney says. 

“You want to start with the hair?” John asks, looking very pointedly at Rodney’s temples. “You sure?”

“I have nothing to hide,” Rodney says. “A receding hairline is an indication of maternal genetics and higher than average testosterone levels, not inherent worth.”

“Yeah, well,” John says. It’s the best he can come up with and that seems reason enough for rolling off the bed and getting to his feet.

“You’re leaving?” Rodney asks. 

John finds his pants and gives Rodney a look.

“Because you’re sulking,” Rodney says. He’s sitting on the bed now, tailor-style, and twitching his hips around like they’re not screwed in to his satisfaction. “About the age vanity.”

“More because we’ve finished with the fun part of the date and moved on to the annoying part.” John finds his t-shirt under Rodney’s desk. He picks it up and sniffs it. Acceptable. He puts it on.

“The part where I’m right,” Rodney says.

The part where your lips are moving, John thinks, uncharitably. He wiggles his fingers ‘goodbye’ at Rodney without looking back over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

It’s his day off, and since he made plans to spend it with Rodney, tying him up and fucking him a lot, he now has nothing else to do. He jogs down to the gym. Ronon is sparring with a couple of marines, so he watches for a while. Then he gets to spar with Ronon for a while. Then he spars with the marines. 

When they’re all good and bruised, John suggests basketball. They play that for a while, and John wins at making baskets and at running into the solid wall of Ronon and bouncing off. After that Ronon and the marines want to go for a “soda.” John’s not supposed to know about the “soda”-making facilities and although he’s been tacitly invited, he’s not really in the mood.

He goes for a run instead. A nice long run around Atlantis. He runs until he’s tired and then he runs some more. And then, when the smug tone of Rodney’s voice pipes up again with “Age vain!”, he runs up the three flights to the catwalk and runs up there for a while. By the time he’s done, he’s *done*. And his knees are crunchy. 

He goes back to his room and showers. Then he limps off to the mess for something to eat. 

He ends up watching the sunset on the balcony off the recreation room and that’s where Rodney catches up to him.

“Feel better?” Rodney says, giving him a dubious once over. 

John sighs.

“I feel forty,” he says.

“Hunh,” says Rodney. “You don’t look a day over--”

“I am forty,” says John. It depresses the hell out of him. He’s age vain. Who knew?

“Actually,” Rodney says. “You’re not. At least not in Atlantis. Next time we get to Earth, I’ll take care of the rest. Not sure what we’ll do about the hard copies though. Maybe Zelenka knows an art forger. He has some very bohemian friends.”

John can’t do anything but stare at him until Rodney notices. Rodney shrugs.

“‘Guy who can hack the Pentagon’, remember?” he says. “I just figured if it was that important to you…” He shrugs again. John feels this little bubble rising inside him.

“How…” He has to swallow. “How old did you make me?”

“Well, I didn’t want to strain credulity,” Rodney says. “You’re thirty-eight. That gives you two more years to get used to the idea.”

“I… Thanks, Rodney. That’s…” Rodney waves the thank you off like it’s a swarm of gnats. John lets himself lean until they are bumping shoulders. Rodney’s arm is warm against his. The sun goes down gold and violet and red. 

“To be honest, I’m not as sanguine about losing my hair as I make out,” Rodney says. 

“No kidding,” John says. He’s watched Rodney at the mirror arranging his little tuft. Rodney just gives him a “Pfft…”

The sky goes from dark blue to indigo to luminous black. Stars peep out. 

John notices Rodney glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. If he weren’t so sore and exhausted…

“Come on,” Rodney says. “I’ve got a Hong Kong bootleg of Snakes On A Plane I was saving for a special occasion. I think your unbirthday counts.”

John agrees. He kind of loves Rodney a lot right now. Maybe that’s going to last.

Maybe the two of them will grow old gracelessly together.

*


End file.
